My Precious
by ShinyShiny9
Summary: Object of my desire . . . subject of my obsession . . . reason for my nightmare. What . . . what have I done? How can I return what wasn't mine to take?
1. F-----E-----H

**A/N: Okay, I really don't know what I was thinking. I generally don't like horror, don't watch horror, don't read horror. But apparently, it seems I can write horror.**

**Long story. Has to do with a**** really great series of graphic novels called "Serenity." But either way, there's a good chance I'll take this story down after a few weeks, 'cos I'm not exactly proud of it. But it's Halloween, so here goes nothing.**

**So, I'll only say this once: I don't own Sonic and Co.!**

* * *

"Status report." Shadow's voice crackled over the communicator.

"Mission success," Rouge called back. "Target acquired, exit successful. I'm on my way to the rendezvous point."

"No more of the calling cards, I hope," warned Shadow.

"Of course the calling cards," Rouge laughed in return. "You know I appreciate flair in presentation!"

"You're making us easy to identify, Rouge."

"Deal with it. Now are you coming to that rendezvous point or not?"

Rouge flicked off the communicator in the middle of Shadow's acerbic reply and launched swiftly off the ground. Spreading her wings, she skimmed lightly down to where she and Shadow were supposed to meet.

"So where's the chip?" he asked as she landed before him. Humming mysteriously, Rouge dug into one pocket, then the other.

"Don't play games," warned Shadow uneasily. "If you've lost it—"

"Don't get your inhibitor rings all in a twist," breezed Rouge. "I'll suppose I'll just have to summon it out of thin air." She began to ostentatiously roll down the cuff of first one glove, then the other. "I've got nothin' up my sleeves, I've got nothin' up my sleeves . . . "

"Rouge, stop clowning around and give me the chip."

"Can't a girl have any fun?" huffed Rouge.

Shadow's sharp glance was all the answer he needed to give. Rouge scoffed and waved one hand in lazy dismissal, and the chip suddenly materialized between her first and second fingers.

"Ah, here it is! And here you go."

Shadow took the chip without a word, but his eyeballs made a complete counterclockwise circuit of their sockets.

Off-duty, Rouge winged merrily down the night streets of Central City. The evening was young yet, and warm, so people still strolled the downtown streets, window shopping or holding hands with their significant others. Rouge pulled to a halt when she spotted Amy and Blaze observing some handbags in a shop window. Silently the bat landed and stepped up behind them, then placed a hand heavily on either one's shoulder.

"And what do you think _you're_ doing?"

"Eeek!" Amy gave a little scream as she and Blaze both jumped and whirled around.

"Rouge!" Amy said breathlessly, laughing. "Don't ever do that again, or I'll bring out the hammer!"

Rouge chuckled. She loved making her friends jump now and then, especially since nobody ever got the drop on _her._

"Evening, girls. Anything interesting going on?"

"We're only browsing," shrugged Blaze. "Care to join us?"

"Nah," grinned Rouge. "Seeing as my company terrifies you that much."

"You're not funny," protested Amy good-naturedly. "Don't tell me you've _never_ been scared in your life."

"Even if I was, you'd never know it," Rouge replied. "You can be sure I wouldn't scream like a six-year-old."

"Oh yes you would!"

"Oh no I wouldn't. I can't scream at all."

"Come on!"

"Seriously. I've tried, when I was mad. My vocal cords just don't stretch that way."

"Now I really want to try scaring you," murmured Amy. Rouge tossed her head carelessly. She wasn't bluffing; she really hadn't ever been able to scream in the traditional sense. It was probably connected to her voice, which was unusually deep on the female spectrum. Frankly, she was more than a little proud of lacking the ability to scream. Even though it was annoying sometimes, not being able to scream out one's frustrations, it also felt like lacking a certain brand of weakness.

"Anyway, good luck, girls," Rouge breezed cheerfully. "I think I'll drop in on the Knucklehead. And of course, that lovely little pebble he's always guarding . . . I feel like a chase tonight."

Waving, she turned to take off, then suddenly glanced back.

"Oh, and if you run into Shadow, do tell him where I am." A wicked grin flashed ever so briefly across her face.

"Rouge!" scolded Blaze. "It's absolutely shameful the way you play those two against each other. Have a heart!"

"Oh, but that's just it," said Rouge. She tapped the heel of one boot against the ground, her fists on her hips. "I _do_ have a heart, and I don't need it in any more pieces. So I'm not going to give it away to just _anyone_. If some poor sap out there is really eating out his heart for me, he can say so, and then, believe me, he'll have my undivided attention."

"Is that so?" said Blaze drily.

"Mmmm-hmmmm." Chuckling, Rouge spread her wings and took off. Instead of taking a course reasonably parallel to the ground, she instead swooped higher and higher. Blaze and Amy squinted upwards, watching her almost become a tiny white speck against the night sky. Suddenly, just before the two Mobians turned away, something happened. Rouge's climb slowed, her wings seemed to lock, and she abruptly sank into a headlong plunge earthwards, her body twirling rapidly as she picked up speed.

"_Rouge!_" Both girls screamed this time. Just when it seemed that violent death was inevitable, Rouge snapped her wings fully open, executed several tight somersaults in midair, and landed neatly upon her feet. She dusted herself off and laughed heartily at Amy and Blaze's still-horrified expressions.

"How d'ya like that death spiral? Realistic, huh?"

She barely had time to take off again before Amy's hammer crashed down where she'd just been standing.

"Rouge, you are HORRIBLE tonight!" Amy hollered after the retreating bat. Blaze shook her head in morose agreement.

"I pity Knuckles."

* * *

Rouge was still smiling devilishly when she touched down on the edge of Angel Island. Her general gleefulness only increased as she silently approached the pyramidal shrine of the Master Emerald, on foot. Ah, Knuckles. The grumpy echidna was probably snoring away underneath his precious Emerald right now. Rouge chuckled softly to herself. Frankly, even she didn't know if she came here more to make passes at the stone, or at its guardian. Quite probably neither temptation was stronger. Knuckles was hotheaded, stubborn, gruff, most often unfriendly—but also pretty cute. Besides that, his quick temper and much slower mental processes made him endlessly fun to tease. Ah, but then again, that rock . . . that glorious agglomeration of succulent green crystalline solids . . . Rouge licked her lips, realizing her mouth was going dry.

She reached the top of the shrine, and sure enough, Knuckles was sleeping the sleep of the just. Rouge stood for a moment and let her gaze flow over the Master Emerald. So beautiful . . . so very beautiful.

Rouge had a discerning taste in jewels. She wouldn't just jump at anything that glimmered. Well . . . okay, so maybe she would. Even Shadow sometimes laughed at her mental fixation with "pretty shinies," and her friends would tease her by wiggling anything sparkly under her nose and watching her tense up like a fascinated kitten. But that was just a preliminary reaction; after all, you couldn't find jewels if you didn't have an eye for their sparkle, could you?

Once the coruscating object in question had been locked into Rouge's radar, she would assess it with a very critical eye. She despised all imitations, of course; she didn't even care for synthetic diamonds. But even in the realm of genuine precious stones, she had her little idiosyncracies and personal preferences. She prized rubies over diamonds, sapphires over rubies, emeralds above all else. Size was attractive, but it often compromised purity, which she valued more. Thus Chaos Emeralds were her passion, for their brilliance, their flawlessness, their size, the mysterious power that charged through her veins whenever she touched one.

But if Chaos Emeralds were her passion, the Master Emerald—good heavens. The Master Emerald was her _obsession_. Her idée fixe, her dream and her vision. Not only the world's largest gem, but its most flawless, most regal, and certainly its most powerful. Perfection. Just looking at it gave her chills of reverent awe—as well as pangs of supreme desire. It would one day be hers. That was a fact written into the very fabric of the universe, at least as far as she was concerned. Not that Knuckles agreed!

Ahh, Knuckles. Her gaze swept to him, and a silent twitch of amusement rippled through her. Silly, silly echidna. Sleeping here like a sack of year-old flour, his hands tucked under his head and tangled in his dreadlocks, a small dribble of saliva trickling inadvertently from the corner of his mouth. Silly thing. He could be stuffed in a sack and tossed off the floating island before he even had a chance to mumble "Wha?!", and then where would his dear Emerald be? Let alone the ease with which someone could just stroll off with the jewel and leave its guardian snoring until morning—or at least until he was awoken by the jolt of the island falling out of the sky.

But Rouge wasn't one for such tactics. Although the Master Emerald burned bright in her heart, there was little pleasure in obtaining it so easily. Hard work makes the result more precious by a hundredfold, and she almost felt as if the Master Emerald's great power would insulted if she . . . just walked off with it. Besides, there was just something about Knuckles. Compared to the pure, radiant attraction exuded by the Master Emerald, the echidna's appeal was a coarse and somewhat homely one. Yet somehow, it was just as delicious.

So it was settled, then. She would again torture herself pleasantly by keeping the Emerald at arm's length. Tonight she would play with Knuckles.

The echidna woke to the prodding of a heart-tipped boot.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart," sang Rouge, grinning. Knuckles snorted and blinked up at her groggily.

"Wh—wha?"

Rouge stepped back, her hands on her hips.

"Are you aware, Knuckie, that you drool in your sleep?"

"Huh?" Suddenly the echidna came all the way awake and bolted upright. "Gettouttahere, batgirl!"

"Awww, I'm happy to see you too."

"Scram! You're not getting the Master Emerald this night, Rouge."

"Oh, who says I came for the stupid Emerald?" asked Rouge sweetly.

"Don't play games, batgirl. Make one move towards my Emerald and I'll make you regret it for weeks."

Deliberately Rouge took a sidestep closer to the Master Emerald, regarding Knuckles with a mock-innocent question in her eyes.

"Rouge," grated the echidna, his voice scraping a low note. He stepped between his mystical charge and the bat who had designs on it. "Back off."

Smirking, Rouge feinted slightly to the left, causing Knuckles to swing aside to block her. Pulling back, she feinted right, then left again, watching as Knuckles swayed tensely to match her movements. She drew back again and hesitated, surveying the warning look in those purple eyes.

"Hmph," she murmured, relaxing as if in defeat. The instant Knuckles let down his guard even the slightest bit, she dove towards the left, then at the last second twisted right and whisked around the guardian. Smirking, she waited for Knuckles to whirl on her before very deliberately whacking the back of her hand against the slanting side of the Master Emerald.

"What now?"

That tore it. Knuckles exploded into fury.

"Okay batgirl, now you've _done_ it!"

"Catch me if you can!"

Rouge's wings clattered as she sprang off the edge of the shrine. Knuckles plunged off the edge of the pyramid's top step and locked into a glide, skimming after her. Rouge actually had powered flight, however, so she got a good head start on him. By the time the echidna landed on the ground, Rouge was whisking into the woods nearby. Growling, Knuckles plunged after her.

The chase was exhilarating, but somewhat one-sided. Rouge darted swiftly among the trees, skipping above and below branches nimbly. Knuckles came crashing after her, mowing down vegetation and growling.

"Rouge!" he bellowed, stopping to shake his fists at the jungle in general. "Come out right now!"

"Whatever you say, Knuckie."

Rouge abruptly swung upside-down from a nearby tree, almost bumping noses with the startled echidna. Before he could properly react (by leaping backwards into a bush, of course), she was already whisking out of sight again, laughing. Following grimly, Knuckles stumbled into a small clearing, where nothing grew except mats of low vegetation.

"Rouge!" he hollered, turning around a few times. "Stop hiding, batgirl! I don't have all night!"

Rouge was pressed back against a tree nearby, shaking with silent laughter. The thrill of hide-and-go-seek never quite wore off—not when you were as good at it as she was. She could feel a joyful mischief bubbling in her heart, spilling over and tickling in her stomach. Life was good right now.

"Come out and fight, why don't ya?!" bellowed Knuckles.

"Over here!" sang Rouge, stepping from behind the tree and waving. Knuckles lunged; after that it was only a matter of swinging lightly aside and letting him plow past her. He stumbled onto a sharp slope and tumbled headlong down, finally splashing to a halt in a small jungle pond.

Rouge struggled to stifle her laughter as a very wet and muddy echidna clambered to his feet and struggled to slosh out of the shallow water. Poor Knuckles was apparently too furious for words by now. Aw, she'd give him a break for a while. She left Knuckles to climb out of the pond and swooped rapidly back to the Master Emerald shrine.

"Batgirl!" she heard a faint voice trailing off behind her. "_Get back here!_"

Yeah, right. Not likely. As she touched down lightly at the top of the pyramid, she again caught her breath at the glimmering beauty ensconced in a simple stone framework. Oh, what a shame that this gorgeous gem was all alone . . . such a king among jewels should have a vast retinue of lesser jewels to pay it homage.

Well, that issue could be easily fixed. Rouge knew of a whole stash of jewels that were just dying to meet their soon-to-be supreme ruler. She glanced over her shoulder hastily; no sign of Knuckles yet. He must still be dashing through the woods to catch up to her. And she had checked before boarding the island—it was currently floating over a desolate mountain range. Nobody would be hurt by the island's fall when the gem was taken. Perfect opportunities like this were not to be carelessly discarded . . .

Rouge deftly hustled together two cloth slings. Slipping them underneath the Master Emerald, she took the ends in her hands and flew above the giant stone. Her wings began to flap, faster and faster, humming with exertion. The Master Emerald had a weight to more than match its size and brilliance.

Knuckles suddenly came exploding from the jungle nearby. His eyes were wild with desperation and fury.

"Rouge! Don't you _dare!_"

Rouge merely flapped her wings harder, anxious to lift off before Knuckles got to the top of the shrine. He was already scaling the stairs like one possessed.

Her timing was perfect. The Master Emerald groaned and lifted off its supporting framework just before Knuckles dove onto the top platform of the pyramid. The minute the Emerald became airborne, a tremor seemed to pierce Angel Island's very core. The island hovered for the tiniest instant, then began to plummet, fleeing from under Knuckles' feet. Even as he threw himself at the Master Emerald, he fell away from it. Plunging downwards along with the island, he stretched out a hand desperately towards his kidnapped treasure.

"_Rouge!_ Give it _back!_" His cry echoed against the mountains flanking the island—mountains that, to him at least, now seemed to be rushing upwards. Rouge only laughed.

"Sorry, Knuckie! Mine now!"

"Don't—"

"Finders keepers!" Rouge called down tauntingly. "Cry baby cry, stick your finger in your eye!"

If Knuckles made any reply, it was lost through the rapidly widening distance between them.


	2. E-----C-----E

Bracing herself in the air as Angel Island plummeted down, Rouge felt herself go dizzy with triumph. Finally! Finally the ultimate treasure was hers! Through the cloth slings, she felt the Emerald's enormous weight tugging on her arms, making her shoulders ache. It was murder just keeping it level, let alone lifting it—but all the same, an intoxicating joy seemed to flow from the gem's glowing facets. Dimly Rouge heard the ponderous crunch of Angel Island hitting the earth, far below. The megalithic landmass lay tilted against a mountainside, its trees skewed oddly. That silly echidna was probably still hopping around in fury right now.

Well, no time for him. First to get her precious prize to a safe hiding place. Turning with difficulty in the air, Rouge flapped in the direction of the secret cave, the one where she kept all her pilfered treasures.

The Master Emerald seemed to only grow heavier. Rouge's unbridled joy began to mix with exhaustion, as she sank lower and lower towards the craggy ground below.

At last she knew she had to rest. She was a long distance from the crashed Angel Island, and not too far from her secret cave. She could stop for a moment to rest and relish her victory.

Gently she set the Master Emerald down in some gorse-bushes. Her breathing was slightly labored from her recent exertion, but she still refused to sit down. She had to look at her beloved Emerald, touch it, reassure herself that it was really her very own now.

"So beautiful," she whispered, sliding her vision reverently along the stone's smooth surfaces and sharp edges, drinking in its seductive fluorescent glow. She looked down at her gloved hand; it was tinted a soft, gentle green by the light exuding from the Emerald. Dare she touch it? Dare she?

But after all, why not? It was all hers, now. Slowly, almost fearfully, she stretched out her hand and skimmed her fingertips over one of the Master Emerald's facets.

Bliss. So cool, so smooth, a more beautiful feeling than the most smoothly polished mirror. Mystical powers rushed up her fingers and through her arm, singing in her blood, filling her head like the highest climatic note of a choir. Almost without her willing it, her hand stroked lovingly along the Emerald's nearest facet, again and again, filling her with a heady, almost incoherent euphoria. Was this what it felt like to be drunk? she wondered dimly, feeling her eyes sliding closed and her body crying out to just lean . . . closer, nearer, bury itself in this beautiful radiance—

"_Rouge!_" bellowed a voice in the distance. "_Rouge!_"

Her head snapped around, her teeth flashing briefly in the green light. Knuckles. The blasted echidna was still after her. No! Not when she was this close! Not when the Master Emerald had been all hers for such a short little time! He would not have it. Never!

Rouge backed up against the Master Emerald and scowled as Knuckles came plowing into view. The echidna was still dripping wet and muddy from the pond, and worn out from the long chase. Rouge would have felt sorry for him normally, but not under these circumstances.

"Give that back!" he shouted between gasping breaths. "You crazy bat!"

"No way! Face it Knuckles, it's mine now!" Rouge shouted back. "Do you hear me? MINE!"

"You have to give it back!"

Knuckles was already drawing back his fist as he stumbled closer. Before he could do anything, Rouge sprang forward and struck him across the jaw, viciously. He reeled back, hand pressed to his cheek in pain.

"Get lost!" snapped Rouge. "You and your stupid rock. Maybe _I_ want it for a change!"

Knuckles swung at her. She shifted aside, feeling the breeze from his fist skim her ear. Tumbling back nimbly, she lashed out with her feet, driving one toe into his midriff and letting the other crack him under the chin. No mercy today, no going easy. That gem would not go back to him if she could help it.

The blows were well-calculated. Knuckles crashed back against the side of the mountain, then slid limply down to the ground.

"Rouge," he whispered, barely conscious. Shivering with exertion, he slowly staggered to his feet.

"Lie down and give up, why don't you?!" barked Rouge. "I don't want to hurt you, but you give me no choice!"

"I have to . . . stop you . . . " hissed Knuckles, stumbling towards her. She hesitated, her breath coming sharp and quick. Could she dare raise her hand against him? When he was this pathetically battered? She—she didn't want to cause him pain, she—why did he have to keep coming? Why? Couldn't he understand how it hurt her to hurt him, couldn't he just leave her alone so she wouldn't have to hit him anymore?

By then Knuckles was upon her. His fist stung against her shoulder. The pain roused her to fury once more, and the brawl became rapid and mindless. Determination sang through Rouge's veins as she advanced upon Knuckles, pushing him back, forcing him to block helplessly, drawing the occasional cry of protest as she struck where she knew it would hurt. He struck back with equal fury.

Suddenly time seemed to stop. There was a faint crunching of stone, the heels of Knuckles' shoes struck air, the dark maw of a chasm loomed underneath him. His eyes flew open wide as he strained forward, his feet scrambling desperately for purchase—and Rouge pushed him back. A cry; he vanished down into the blackness.

Rouge stepped back and placed her hands on her knees, panting. Well, that got him out of the way! Lucky thing Knuckles had his dreadlocks. He'd make it to the bottom safely. By the time he climbed back up, she'd be gone.

She retrieved the Master Emerald, laboriously hoisted it off the ground, and began to fly away with it. As she crossed the chasm, she glanced downwards idly, to see if Knuckles was climbing to the top yet. When she squinted down into the black depths, a sudden realization came screaming into her brain.

Knuckles' dreadlocks didn't work when wet.

Everything in her went cold. Her wings stopped moving. It was a wonder she didn't break her neck, because she dimly remembered plummeting down into the chasm, getting tangled with the Master Emerald, tumbling through the air in her blind haste. It was all a blur; all she knew was that soon she was at the bottom of the chasm, the Master Emerald was plunged halfway into the ground from the fall, and Knuckles was lying sprawled before her.

He was dead. That was inevitable, of course, falling from that height. His neck was broken, his arm at an odd angle, his eyes (mercifully) closed. The other details of the scene you can supply yourself, based on your experience with and preference for horror. However you imagine it, it was a gruesome sight.

Rouge stood numbly, rooted to the ground. The ability to scream would have been nice, just now . . . death had never been on her list of tricks, she took jewels, not lives. She had never killed anyone, never tried to, never stepped beyond that boundary. And now, not just anyone, but that lovable brute of an echidna? No . . . no. It couldn't be. It couldn't.

"Knuckles," she whispered. "Knuckles, don't be—"

Something inside her snapped, and she fell to her knees at the echidna's side, shook him desperately by the arm, choked in horror as the arm flopped loosely, the bone no longer connected to the torso. How could he be dead? How? How could she have killed him?!

Tremblingly she slid her hands under Knuckles' broken body, drew him close, buried her fingers in his dreadlocks and her face in the top of his head, whispering incoherently into his blood-matted fur.

"Please don't be dead Knuckles, please, please don't be dead, please Knuckles . . . "

She must have lost consciousness. That, or pure misery rendered her so numb that she left the outside world for a while. Either way, it felt like hours later when she finally lifted her head, still clutching Knuckles' body close. Her temples throbbed as she fixed the Master Emerald with a look of pure hatred. The unspeakable—! Blame was easily shifted in times of desperation. This was all the stupid rock's fault. What good was the stupid, stupid rock? It couldn't save Knuckles. It didn't save him, and now he was DEAD!

"Why don't you do something, you stupid good-for-nothing rock?!" Rouge choked, dashing angry tears from her eyes. "You damned good-for-nothing rock! You're supposed to be so damned all-powerful, and you can't even save him! You—you—"

She broke off as a blinding green light suddenly shot from the Master Emerald's side. It swept rapidly around the area like a swinging searchlight, flashing across rocks and vegetation and scratching infinitely into the dark sky for just the briefest instant. Rouge watched, frozen in awe, as the beam finally came to rest upon Knuckles.

The echidna's body began to glow green. Gently the beam of light seemed to tug him out of Rouge's arms, lay him softly on the ground. Small tendrils of energy sprouted plantlike around the prone red form, swirling like wisps of glowing green smoke, melting away the dried blood on his fur. Slowly the light grew brighter and brighter, enveloping his body in a curtain of white-green luminescence. Rouge shielded her eyes, squinting between her upraised hands wonderingly.

At long last, the light faded. Knuckles' body twitched. Slowly, laboriously, he moved. Got his arms underneath himself. Heaved himself to his feet.

"Kn—Knuckles!" gasped Rouge. "You're all right!"

Knuckles swayed slightly, catching his footing. His head hung low, as his still-battered body struggled to remember how to stand.

"Knuckles," whispered Rouge, stumbling to her feet herself. "I'm—I'm so sorry—"

Silently Knuckles turned away from her.

"I didn't mean to! Honestly, I—I forgot you wouldn't be able to glide, and I—Knuckles, I never meant to hurt you—"

His back remained turned. Sharply he held out one arm for silence. When Rouge complied, he walked limpingly away without so much as a backwards glance.

Rouge plopped back down on the ground, awash in a mixture of delirious joy and utter pain. Of course, of course Knuckles wouldn't want to even bear the sight of her. She'd—for a time there, she'd killed him. She had no right to ever show her face to him again. But he was alive! He was alive again! That was all that really mattered. Perhaps someday she could go and apologize fully, plead forgiveness, somehow atone for what she'd done. But right now, attempting to follow him with empty apologies would only cause him pain and anger. Later.

But now . . . Rouge looked again at the Master Emerald. Knuckles had left without it. It had saved him, but now his distaste for Rouge evidently overpowered his desire to retrieve his Emerald. Now that Rouge's grief had dissipated, she again recognized the glorious luster of the precious stone. Ah . . . well. Everything had turned out all right, hadn't it? So she might as well finish what she started . . . but her secret cave wasn't safe enough. No. She would take the Master Emerald home and hide it in the guest bedroom, that's what she'd do.

Smiling through her last few tears, Rouge scooted forward and began to dig the Master Emerald out of the ground.


	3. A-----H-----L

The next morning, Rouge slept late. She had sweet, mist-filled, quasi-lucid dreams of the Master Emerald, glowing softly under a collection of blankets in the spare bedroom. Having it for her own was a dream come true in and of itself. Mmmm . . . she would polish it every day, and keep some of her other jewels around it for comparison, and she could go in and gaze at it whenever she wanted . . .

She was dragged rudely from her slumber by a knocking at the front door. Groaning, she burrowed under the blankets and covered her head with her pillow. The bed was soft and warm, hugging her close and filling her muscles with a peaceful limpness. Whoever it was could just go away . . .

The knocking persisted, without once wavering. Steady, unemotional, madly annoying. Groaning again, rubbing her eyes and mussing her ears, Rouge clambered out of bed and dragged a bathrobe over her pajamas. She realized it was inside-out, then decided against fixing it. She was just too groggy to give a fig newton.

"What'ya want, anyway?" she called irately, clumping towards the door. It couldn't be Shadow knocking—he'd have kicked out the lock and walked in by now. It couldn't be Sonic either—he'd have lost patience and run off long ago. Amy would have . . . oh, never mind, might as well just open the door and see who it was already. They certainly were very stubborn about their knocking.

Rouge perked up slightly when she saw who was standing outside.

"Knuckles!" she said, smiling. Then the smile vanished from her face just as rapidly, as she got a better look. Knuckles looked terrible. He stood as if he could barely remain upright, swaying slightly on his feet and hanging his head. His dreadlocks were matted and unkempt. And . . . he still had wounds and bruises all over his body. Some of them were oozing slightly.

"Knuckles, are you all right?" asked Rouge anxiously.

Knuckles lifted his head and opened his eyes. Rouge was again struck by a sudden desire to know how to scream—instead of the usual luxurious purple irises glimmering within the whites, his eyes were green. _All_ green. All over. A solid, clear, crystalline green, like—like—

Like emeralds. Even as Rouge stepped back in shock, she noticed there were small flat surfaces angled in various directions in Knuckles' eyes. Facets. His eyes were honest-to-goodness _emeralds!_

Rouge recovered her composure.

"Sorry, I was startled," she said contritely. "Is . . . is that a side effect of being revived by the Master Emerald?"

Knuckles stood in silence, looking at her. Every now and then he blinked, his eyelids sliding down over his emerald eyes with an unnerving naturalness. He stood that way for quite a while.

"Knuckles?"

Slowly his head tilted, his ragged dreadlocks swinging with it. A moment more of silence, then:

"Why did you kill me?"

His voice was his own. And yet, not. There was a soft, plaintive note mixed in, a raspy little undertone like the croak of an old man. Rouge tried to swallow, but her throat was too tight to let her.

"I . . . it was an accident. I'm so sorry Knuckles, I really am. I didn't mean to hurt you, I thought you would be able to glide safely."

"Why did you kill me?" persisted Knuckles, his head tilting the other way, his eyelids angling down sadly over those surreal emerald eyes.

"I told you," whispered Rouge, shaking her head. "Look, Knuckles, I—I'm glad you're alive. More than anything I'm glad you're alive. But—but could we maybe talk later? It's too soon after this happened. For both of us."

A bit of silence.

"Why? Why, Rouge?"

His mittened hand reached out to her suddenly. Stiffening, she pulled back.

"Look, we'll talk later, okay?"

She shut the door with surprising haste and leaned against it, sliding to the floor.

_Scritch, scritch. Scritch, scritch._

Her ears stood up stiffly, her body tense.

_Scritch, scritch, scritch. Scritch-scratch_.

Knuckles was running his knuckle-spikes up and down the door outside. Gently, without any anger. Just scratching plaintively away, like a puppy who wanted to come in.

_Scritch-scratch, scritch-scritch-scritch._

Rouge didn't know why, but she felt terror climbing inside her. What was she so afraid of? She was never afraid of Knuckles' violent anger, of his punches. She would even have expected him to try punching down the door. And yet, he was just . . . scratching, and somehow it scared her more than any display of fury could have.

_Scritch-scritch-scrabble-scritch-scritch._

"Stop it!" she called through the door. "Go away, we'll talk later, okay? Not now!"

_Scritch_.

Then silence. After an untold eternity, Rouge's sensitive ears picked up the sound of Knuckles' sneakers stepping off the doorstep and heading away from the house.

He was still limping.

After an hour or so, Rouge got up the nerve to go out and paint over the scratches on her door. She slapped on the only color of paint she had (eggshell blue), unconcerned about doing any kind of a careful job. She kept glancing over her shoulder.

When she had finished, she went inside, locked the door, and drifted towards the guest bedroom. Just stepping in through the door, she felt a soothing bubbly sort of energy wash over her. That crazy rock had _some_ power. She drew aside one of the blankets covering the Master Emerald, then leaned back against a wall, her arms folded, and surveyed her prize.

Slowly her uneasiness crumbled away. A smile melted gradually onto her face, her large ears relaxing into a calm, less-alert position. Such a beauty, that Master Emerald. Such a beauty. Its powers were greater than she'd expected. Who knew it could bring back the dead? Or, hmmm, did that only work on official Guardians? Either way, the new eyeballs were a bit unorthodox. That'd take some getting used to.

Then again, she mused, it almost made sense. Reviving the dead was no party trick. The Master Emerald would probably want to leave some kind of sign, some marker informing the world that this person was indebted to the Emerald's power. It really could have made do with a tattoo or scar or something, but who was she to question that kind of a rock? And who knew, maybe the crystal eyeballs were only temporary. That'd be nice.

Then there was the question of what to do with Knuckles. He was evidently still ticked off. Understandably so. There was a new kind of dilemma—when you temporarily killed someone, how exactly did you make it up to them?

Rouge was still rotating this problem in her head when there came a sudden knocking at the front door. She stiffened for a moment, but as the knocking continued she realized it was different. Then there came a muffled call of "Rouge! Rouge, are ya home?" Sonic.

Rouge leaped forward and drew the blankets back over the Master Emerald, as her mind blazed into action. Okay, okay—let's see. It was more than possible to just sit tight and wait for Sonic's very short attention span to run out. Sure. But he and all the others would keep knocking, every day, and she couldn't hide forever. She knew what they were knocking for. Better to get it out of the way, quickly. Lay it to rest. Yes, that'd do.

"Com-ing!" she shouted towards the front door. Making very carefully sure that the Master Emerald was fully hidden, she shut the door of the guest bedroom and hurried towards the mudroom.

"Hi Sonic," she said to the hedgehog tapping his foot on the doorstep. "What's up, big blue?"

"Haven't you heard?" asked Sonic, his eyebrows raised. "The Master Emerald's gone, and so is Knuckles!"

"Wait, what?" Rouge blinked at him blankly.

"Disappeared! We found Angel Island lying on a mountainside, with no Master Emerald. Knuckles was gone too."

"And you're asking me because . . . ?" Rouge folded her arms and rocked back on one heel.

"Uhm," Sonic spluttered slightly, realizing the implication. "Well, uh, it's not like we thought—"

"Yeah, it's like you thought," said Rouge drily. She smirked. "When the old M.E.'s missing, I'm the first one to ask, huh?"

"Uh . . . sorry," said Sonic sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you _do_ chase after it a lot. Amy and Blaze said you were planning to go to Angel Island last night, so we . . . uh . . . "

Rouge shrugged.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Sorry, I don't know anything about it. Better go ask someone else."

"Nothing?" said Sonic hesitantly. "Not even a hint? A clue?"

Rouge felt herself squirming internally under Sonic's honest gaze. Trusting, innocent little fools . . . how did they rip into your conscience like that? Biting her lip, she sighed and looked away.

"All . . . all right. I'll tell you everything."

"Oh?"

Rouge sighed again and flopped against the doorframe resignedly.

"Okay, so it's kind of my fault. Last night, I did go to Angel Island. I kinda got into a bit of . . . hide-and-seek with Knuckles, you know?"

"I get the picture," nodded Sonic, smiling slightly. He knew how Knuckles reacted around Rouge, and he'd witnessed a good few of their rows and chases.

"Well, yeah," shrugged Rouge. "So we were dashing around in the jungle like idiots. And I'd just managed to lose the Knucklehead, and I was . . . well, I'll admit I was kinda thinking of making a grab at the Master Emerald. I mean, I'm a treasure hunter. Can you blame a gal for being good at her job?"

"You're a real workaholic," grinned Sonic drily.

"Ha," retorted Rouge. "But yeah. I was just heading in that direction when the island started to fall. Knuckles and I both headed for the Master Emerald shrine as fast as we could, but by the time we got there the rock was stark gone. And you know how the Knucklehead is. He threw a fit and went sailing off to find it. I was going to help him, but he was in a real flailing fury, so I figured I'd better back off a little." She shrugged. "Who knows who took it, or where. Have you checked with Dr. Eggman?"

"Not yet," said Sonic. "He's . . . you know. Kinnnnnda not very much fun to interview."

"Well, I'm glad you think I'm a more amusing conversationalist than the good doctor," grinned Rouge. Sonic chuckled awkwardly.

"Uh, well, yeah. So, I guess we'll all be interrogating the old Egghead next. You want to come along?"

"Nah," said Rouge. "I'm sure Knuckie is well on track to finding that Emerald himself, since he's got that crazy connection to it and all. I figure I'll just let him find it and bring it back, then I can go back to making swipes at it."

Sonic shook his head, chuckling.

"Okay. Sorry to just come barging in and interrogate you like that, it was just, uh—"

"Nah, it's fine," Rouge waved a hand airily. "Good luck tracking down Knuckles."

"Thanks," said Sonic, turning to leave. Suddenly he turned back.

"By the way, a 'wet paint' sign would be nice," he grinned ruefully, holding up a right hand with streaks of blue paint on the knuckles. "How come you repainted your door?"

"Eh, it was starting to look dingy," said Rouge. "And I got tired of the color."

"Ah, gotcha. Well, gotta juice! See ya later."

"Later, Big Blue," called Rouge, and shut the door. For a second she leaned back against it, still clutching the doorknob, and realized her whole body was singing with tension. She stumbled to the living room, flopped down on the sofa, rolled over, covered her eyes, and began to laugh dizzily. Phew! He'd bought it like a Sunday newspaper. She was in the clear! Nobody would think of searching for the Master Emerald at her place now. They'd assume Knuckles was off looking for it somewhere, and would think nothing of his long absence. She was safe, if not permanently, at least for a long time. The suckers. Thank goodness for her quick mind and experience with . . . oh, call it skillful alteration of the truth.

Just as Rouge sat up, still a little heady from the sudden release of tension, there came a soft sound against the wall outside.

_Scritch. Scritch-scritch_.

Oh dear Lord, not this again.

Setting her teeth, Rouge got up and walked firmly into the mudroom. She had a mind to barricade the door with a china cabinet, although really that wouldn't help much if Knuckles decided to punch the door down. As she began to tug the china cabinet away from the wall, she heard Knuckles' footsteps circling around towards the front door. Still limping. Little half shuffle-steps.

He was fumbling up onto the doorstep. She could hear him. A bit of silence. _Snuffle, snuffle._ He smelled the wet paint. _Snuffle-snuff_. Then a little muffled _grahh,_ a scratchy expression of annoyance from the back of the throat. The wet paint displeased him. Some more silence. Then again, _scritch-scritch-scritch_, but now next to the door, against the siding.

"Listen, Knucklehead!" Rouge called through the door, her fingers still clenched around the china cabinet. "If you want to talk, I'd love to listen. Really. Have a nice reasonable conversation. But cut it out with the scratching! What do you expect to achieve with that, huh?"

_Scritch-scrabble-scratch. Scritch_.

"I'm not gonna open the door until you start acting like a reasonable Mobian!"

_Scrabble-scritch. Scrabble._

"Ugh!" Rouge abandoned the china cabinet and stormed to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator deliberately and pulled out a bottle of soda. It was only when she saw the liquid sloshing around inside that she realized how much her hands were shaking.

The limping footsteps shuffled around to the side of the house. From behind the oven came a persistent little _scritchety-scritch, scritch-scratchy._

"Shut UP!" Rouge hurled the soda bottle in the direction of the sound. It bounced off the oven and spun across the floor, spewing a frothy cream-colored jet of soda fizz. The scratching persisted.

Snarling, Rouge stormed upstairs to her room, threw herself on her bed, and pulled a pillow over her head. It didn't seem to do any good. She could still hear Knuckles circling the house with his limping step, scratching at the siding, all around, all around, scritchy-scratchy. How long did it go on? Hours? Many hours? It grew dark. She didn't exactly fall asleep, but she did drift off into a sort of numb blackness of the mind.

Eventually she jolted awake, her eyes instantly wide. There was knocking. More knocking. Then she relaxed, as again she heard a familiar voice. Shadow this time.

"Rouge?" he called, already sounding impatient. "Open up!"

Honestly? She didn't feel like moving. She hugged her pillow under her chin and listened with dispassionate indifference as the knocking continued. Hmm, he'd probably kick out the lock soon. Cheesecake, she'd have to replace it fast, or Knuckles might try to come in. Might be a good idea to answer the door so Shadow _wouldn't_ kick out the lock . . . ah, forget it.

Surprisingly, there was only a faint _k-chk!_ sound, and the door slammed open. Shadow had finally picked up the delicate art of lock-picking, and apparently had respect enough for Rouge's freshly-painted door to bother with that less forceful method.

"Rouge?" His voice circled around downstairs. "Rouge, are you in here?"

He rummaged around for a while, exclaiming irately in the kitchen (probably got stuck to that spilled soda), then clumped upstairs. Poking his head into Rouge's room, he appeared visibly startled when he saw Rouge still tangled in the bedcovers, fully dressed, her chin propped up on her half-folded pillow. She eyed him languidly, her eyelids half-closed. Shadow opened the door fully and stood in the doorway. He was blunt as usual.

"Rouge, what the hell?"

"What?" asked Rouge flatly.

"Seriously? You've been here all the time? We're supposed to be on a mission! G.U.N. has been blowing up your phone, as the saying goes, for more than an hour now. I came to find you before they started screeching AWOL."

Rouge turned her head and fumbled for her pager, which was lying on her bedside table. She always turned it on in the evening, so G.U.N. could contact her with missions. Today she'd forgotten, though. Squinting at the device, she saw it was very much off.

"Oh," she muttered, plunking the pager back down on the bed and letting it slide to the floor. For some reason she was so bloody exhausted . . . utterly drained. Shadow tilted his head dubiously.

"Are you ill?" he asked. It was a form question, please answer true or false, but there was still a note of genuine solicitude buried deep in the back there.

"No, no, I'm just—ahh, I'm just a little under the weather."

"Oh?" Shadow seemed to be considering a few possibilities and settling on one. Rouge chuckled in spite of herself and heaved herself up on her elbows.

"Ohhh, I know what you're thinking." She swung her weight onto one arm and leveled the other in an accusatory point. "And that's not it."

"If you say so." Shadow shook his head. "Well then, should I tell HQ that you can't work today?"

"Nahhhh." Rouge toppled into a sitting position and massaged her eyelids with the heels of her hands. "I'll be fine, once I get on my feet and get moving."

"If you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Rouge shook out her head and looked up. "You know, buster, you've got a lot of nerve, just barging into a lady's room like that."

Shadow said nothing, but glanced around the perimeter of the room searchingly. Rouge knew him well enough to pick up the silent question. _Lady, what lady?_ Hiding a grin, she snatched up her pillow and hurled it in his direction.

"Aw, wise guy! Getoutta here!"

Shadow half-closed the door to deflect the shot, smirking slightly. Fully opening it again, he silently held up one hand and flashed all five fingers outwards twice, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. _I'll give you ten minutes to get the heck out there._

"Ooh, such a gentleman. I was expecting only five," retorted Rouge.

"You looked like you needed ten," said Shadow with a straight face. He was gone before Rouge could find anything else to throw at him. Sinking back on the bed for a moment, she chuckled fondly. Shadow wasn't the most openly sympathetic fellow, but Rouge didn't care for open sympathy anyway. His mixture of gruff chivalry and sly teasing always made her feel better.

Sure enough, as Team Dark plowed through their mission that night, both Shadow and Omega seemed to take particular pains to get under her skin. It might seem unkind, but it was just what Rouge needed. It was just Team Dark's way; their equivalent of a hug was a none-too-gentle knock between the ears. Soon, between all the action and arguing and backbiting, Rouge was back to her old self.

Well, almost.

At one point, she heard a limping step coming up behind her. Everything inside her tensed up, and her breath shot into her lungs violently. She whirled to find Shadow, keeping his weight off one foot.

"You all right?" he asked, eyeing her strangely.

"Are _you?_" asked Rouge, trying to look natural.

"Eh. Damned piece of shrapnel from an exploding 'bot hit my ankle. It'll heal up in an hour," said Shadow.

"Clumsy," said Rouge, forcing a smirk. Shadow shrugged one shoulder and rolled his eyes, but when Rouge turned back to her work, he quietly watched her breathing slowly, slowly returning to normal.


	4. R-----I-------I

For a good few days, nothing happened. Knuckles didn't come at all. Besides, Rouge had figured out his little scheme. Apparently the echidna was out to punish her for his near-death with psychological tactics. He must have watched one too many cheap horror movies and decided that a creepy act and a bit of scratching would scare her. Well, nice try, but no dice. Rouge was very cheerful and productive, utterly unhaunted, for more than half a week. Though that's not to say she didn't have eerie dreams at night, about emerald eyes hanging in a huge black void, always mixed with echoing cries of pain and the crunching of bones.

Then, five days later, Rouge went sailing out on a jewel heist. She managed to knock down a nearby museum, getting off scot-free with a foreign jewel it had borrowed for display. My, there'd be a row over that one. She might have to give it back secretly if things got too jumpy, internationally.

As she winged home, Rouge pulled the brilliantly cut ruby out of her treasure-hunting sack. Lovely little bauble, she mused, holding it up against the moon. Still didn't compare to the Master Emerald, though. She smiled slightly, thinking of the huge gem still safely ensconced in her spare room. She went to see it every day, and drinking in its beauty and power never got old.

Rouge landed on her own doorstep without incident. Folding away her wings, she pulled down the black cloth tied over the lower half of her face; she was still in her full stealth outfit. Humming to herself, she unlocked the door, stepped inside, and flicked on the light in the mudroom.

Knuckles stood at the other end of the room. Stock still, eyes still hard and green and angled, looking at her lifelessly. Rouge fell back against the door, dimly hearing it slam shut.

"How did you get in here?" she hissed. The door had been locked. Had he broken a window?

No reply.

For a moment Rouge gazed at Knuckles in silence, as he began to step very slowly closer. Instead of looking better than he had before, he looked worse. The wounds had not healed. If anything, they almost seemed to be larger and more numerous. His limp was gone, but his left arm now hung utterly loose at his side, attached only by flesh, swinging sickeningly as he walked. He came ever closer, till he was within arm's length of Rouge. She couldn't move; those crystalline green orbs seemed to lock her in place.

"Why, Rouge?" Knuckles slurred, swaying slightly.

"Listen, I don't know how you got in, but get out the same way, right now!" Rouge barked.

"Why, Rouge? I didn't wanna die . . . "

"I didn't want to kill you!" Rouge shot back, trying to look away, but failing.

"I didn't wanna die . . . " Slowly Knuckles lifted his right hand, slowly, slowly, reaching towards her face . . .

Rouge stood paralyzed. Every molecule in her body tried to press farther back against that door. He wasn't going to touch her. He couldn't. Not with that horrible blood-striped hand. But the hand kept coming, coming closer, till it almost brushed her cheek—

At the very last second, Rouge struck out, slapping Knuckles' hand away. Even thus briefly touching his glove sent a chilling shock through her gut. It was _cold._ Icy, life-sucking cold, and faintly mushy, as if there were no blood in his veins at all. But she had done it; she knew she wouldn't be scared to touch him now.

Meanwhile Knuckles held his hand strangely in midair, where Rouge's slap had left it. The two emeralds in his head never once wavered away from Rouge's face. He made no motion.

Rouge drew up her courage and held up her fists.

"All right, I'll tell you one more time. Get out of here, or I'll make you get out!"

Knuckles continued to stand stock-still, staring at her. The only sound in the room was Rouge's breath. Tension seethed in the air.

Abruptly Rouge threw herself aside and flung open the door.

"You heard what I told you!" She pointed grimly. "OUT! Get out this instant, or I'll _kick_ you out!"

Knuckles surveyed her quietly, dolefully.

"You don't want me around?" Plaintive, yet heart-stoppingly sinister. "Is that why you—"

"_No it's not!_" Rouge shook the door in frustration, reluctant to actually grab Knuckles by the arm and throw him out—particularly as that would mean pulling his dangling left arm. She wasn't quite sure it would stay attached . . .

Mercifully, Knuckles began to step deliberately towards the doorway.

"Maybe you don't want me around," he murmured in passing, staring off into the night. "But I'll be around."

Rouge said nothing. She merely slammed the door shut as soon as she could.

Once she had recovered a little, she went around and checked all the windows. No damage anywhere. There was no indication of how the echidna could possibly have gotten in. The chimney? wondered Rouge. It was a somewhat ridiculous notion—especially, she faintly realized, with that arm of his—but all the same she took care to close up the chimney flue.

* * *

The night after that, Team Dark got the evening shift, which meant that after midnight, they were home free. As Rouge sauntered home, her mind strayed as usual to the Master Emerald. But the minute she touched the doorstep, she felt a shiver go through her. Last night she had stood right here, and when she opened the door . . .

It startled her how much willpower it took to unlock that lock and twist that doorknob. Grimly she threw the door open and strode inside.

She looked around. Nothing. Swiveled her ears. Not a sound.

Relaxing, she slapped herself in the forehead.

"Get ahold of yourself, woman," she muttered, heading upstairs to change. She was getting way too paranoid over all this. So the echidna shimmied down the chimney or something, one time! That was no cause to tremble like a stupid kitten every time she walked in the front door. At this rate, she scolded herself, she would soon be expecting Knuckles to be hiding behind every corner. And then behind every chair, and under the table, and tangled in the clothes in every closet, and huddled under the rug, and miraculously crammed inside the refrigerator and toaster oven—

Rouge broke off suddenly as she realized she was laughing. She fell silent immediately. Bad policy, laughing in the silence like that, at things that went on inside your own head. Very bad policy. Better avoid it, to prevent questions.

Shaking off a sudden wave of unease, she went to the little bathroom down the hall to wash her hands. As she lathered up the soap, she looked into the mirror at the reflection of her bathtub's plain white shower curtain. Against her will, her skin began to crawl.

When Rouge had been a little girl, she had never harbored any delusions about monsters under the bed. It just never occurred to her to worry about creatures lurking down there. No, her childhood paranoia had been shower curtains, and something gruesome and carnivorous standing quietly behind them. It was a deliciously terrifying game her mind used to play with her: _You know there's nothing back there. You know it. But what if you pulled aside that curtain . . . and something WAS?_

Rouge smiled, remembering how her six-year-old self used to stand frozen for ages in the middle of the bathroom, body tense, hand extended uselessly towards the shower curtain, ears straining for the sound of toothy breathing, trying to work up the nerve to actually draw that stupid curtain aside. Geez, she had been just as bad a little idiot as any other kid, back then.

Shaking her head, she shook her hands dry and ironically tossed open the shower curtain on her way out.

And there Knuckles was.

Rouge stumbled back against the sink, her fingers locking onto the edge of the counter. If she couldn't scream, all the same she felt inclined to.

Knuckles wasn't conscious this time. He was sprawled grotesquely at the bottom of the bathtub, looking almost exactly the way he had at the bottom of that chasm. Eyes closed, head lolling, arm dislocated, body crushed, twist of agony in his expression. Blood and various mushy compounds dribbled along the sides and bottom of the tub.

Rouge swallowed the urge to vomit and gradually resumed breathing. For a while she waited, unable to move. Nothing happened. Slowly, with effort, she unclenched her fingers from the countertop and shifted forward slightly. He was dead?

She forced herself to step closer to the tub. She squinted, tensed to jump back. He wasn't breathing. No heartbeat. She'd have been able to hear either of those. Swallowing again, she leaned over to make sure.

The cold emerald eyes shot open. Ragged lips pulled back to reveal snarling teeth, and a hand flew up to snatch her. The next thing Rouge knew, she was in the spare bedroom, wildly, frantically locking the door and throwing herself back against it, her breath coming in sobs. He was going to come. He was going to drag his mangled self out of the tub and down the hallway and go scritchy-scratchy at this very door, this very door she was leaning on . . . she couldn't take it. She'd just outright die on the spot. That's all.

Still trembling, she waited. Her ears strained almost off the top of her head, listening for the sound of Knuckles staggering down the hall.

The tension was agonizing, but fortunately she had locked herself in the guest bedroom, not her own one. The Master Emerald glowed faintly from beneath its blankets, casting a sweet green light across the floor. Rouge fixed her eyes on the gently shifting streaks of luminescence, and, as the minutes dragged on, felt her breath and heartrate ever so gradually steadying.

Slowly, fury built up inside her. Enough with the running! Enough with being freaked out by that stupid echidna! She'd never been scared of him before. She'd never been scared of Shadow or Omega or Eggman or any of the villains and monsters she'd ever run into. It's not like he could hurt her, so why should she worry about him now? Just because he had a weird pair of eyes and looked a little battered? Pshaw.

Standing up, she threw open the door grimly. She was going to find that echidna and boot him once and for all, creepy eyes or no creepy eyes. She stormed down to the bathroom. Knuckles was gone. Even the blood in the tub was gone. What, he'd been nice enough to clean up after himself? thought Rouge sarcastically. She turned around and began to search the house.

She didn't have to search for long. She went down the stairs, and there Knuckles was in kitchen. Blood pooled around his shoes as he rocked unsteadily back and forth, his lifeless stone eyes slanted sadly in Rouge's direction. He seemed to have just been standing there, waiting for her, for a long time.

Rouge felt a sudden pang of regret. He looked so hurt! Maybe . . . maybe there was some way she could help him? And just maybe, if she soothed his suffering a bit, he would forgive her and leave her alone.

"Knuckles?" she said softly, stepping into the kitchen. "There's got to be a way to stop that bleeding. Come on, sit down. If you promise to stop barging into my house like this, I'll fix you up and make you better. How's that sound?"

"Can't pay you," rasped Knuckles.

"That's all right. Come on, sit down."

"Can't pay you," repeated Knuckles in a monotone, his head lolling forwards sadly. "You always want payment. You like jewels, Rouge, don't you?" He gave a chuckle that sounded like it belonged in a tomb. "I remember. You like jewels. Like that Master Emerald most of all."

Rouge paused, uneasy. What was he leading to with this?

"I remember, you came to take it," continued Knuckles in a thin drone. "What was it you said when you took it? Oh, oh yes. Stick your finger in your eye, you said. And you took it." He lifted his head with some difficulty and blinked his hard, soulless eyes at Rouge. "I'll pay you."

Lifting his good arm, he began to gauge at his eye.

"What the hell are you doing?!" choked Rouge. "Stop that! Stop it right now!"

She moved forward to strike him, to yank his hand away. Too late. Deliberately Knuckles dug into the socket, wrapped his hand around the jewel that served as his right eye, pulled. With a sound of sucking flesh, it slid out. Slowly he held the dripping stone out to Rouge. One eyelid sagged loosely over the newly-vacant socket.

Rouge stood welded back against the wall, whispering every possible curse she knew in a jumbled, quivering stream. Her breath heaved as she stared at Knuckles in pure horror, unable to move. He in turn stood motionless, holding his eye out to her. His remaining eye travelled to Rouge's face, surveyed the fear wilding her eyes and plastering her ears against her head. Slowly a horrible, malicious grin oozed across his face.

"Take it, Rouge. Take it."

He took a step closer. Rouge snapped. She flung herself at him, hammered a kick into his skull, heard the kitchen echo with the crack of her boot against bone.

He barely even seemed to notice. Seizing her arm, he threw her to the floor.

The fight must have gone on for hours. Rouge's body sang with pain, from the exertion and the thousands of times those sharp knuckle-spikes dug into her flesh. She attacked furiously, with her feet, her hands, right down to tooth and claw, and yet she couldn't beat him. He was barely able to stand upright, dammit! How did he manage to stand under so many blows? Her hands were soaked up to the elbows in his blood, how much did he have left in him?!

She grew too exhausted to stand up. She half-rose and kicked out whenever Knuckles tried to approach her. Soon she was so tired she could no longer even do that. Knuckles' good arm snaked forward, and his hand wrapped around her throat. Gasping, she kicked him in the stomach; by now the effort was almost feeble.

Knuckles' icy grip didn't loosen. He hoisted her upright by the throat and slammed her back against the wall. A flood of black exploded in her vision, but she fought it off and kicked him again. The lifeless mitt tightened around her throat.

"Lie down and give up, why don't you?" droned Knuckles, his one jewelled eye and one empty socket staring into Rouge's soul. She wasn't going to give. Even all this couldn't break her. She kicked again, lashing blindly with her feet. Her lungs cried out for air, as her windpipe came dangerously close to caving in.

Slowly, sadly, Knuckles shook his head. His icy grip tightened further. Rouge's eyes stared at him pleadingly; then they glazed and slid shut.


	5. T-----D-----V

To her own amazement, Rouge woke up. She was slumped on the kitchen floor, and there was a strange smell assaulting her nose. She recognized it. Something that reminded her just a little of Omega . . . Shadow's motorcycle . . .

Gasoline.

She heaved herself up onto her arms, despite the screaming pain in her muscles. Across the kitchen sat Knuckles, his legs crossed, his large gloves fumbling ineptly with something tiny.

"Wh-what are you—"

He turned to her with another demonic grin and tossed a lighted match against the wall.

The kitchen was awash in flames within five seconds. Rouge struggled to get to her feet, her legs buckling repeatedly. Knuckles had disappeared, and the kitchen door was closed. Finally managing to stumble towards it, Rouge twisted desperately at the doorknob. Nothing. It refused to budge. She shook it, wrenched it, kicked it, threw herself against it like a dumb animal, all for nothing. At last she collapsed to the floor and hung her head, waiting for the end. She could already feel flames searing the tips of her dragging wings.

Suddenly, through the hellish haze of smoke, flames, and heat, the door shuddered violently.

"Rouge?" shouted a voice on the other side. "Rouge, are you in there?!"

"I'm he—e—" Rouge struggled to call back, but her lungs filled with smoke and all she could do was hack weakly. The blazing heat was starting to be too much; her vision was misting over. Just as she slipped into blackness again, she dimly noticed the door exploding into splinters of wood, and felt a pair of arms wrapping around her . . .

And yet again, she awoke, her head aching. The sharp plastic edges of an oxygen mask were digging into her face, and a cold, stale-smelling stream of oxygen was oozing into her lungs. Still, she sucked at it greedily; it felt so delicious to breathe again.

Once she had satisfied her need to breathe a bit, she lifted her eyes to take in her surroundings. Cream was crouching next to her, holding the oxygen mask on. She gazed at Rouge with wide, frightened eyes. Behind her, almost everyone Rouge knew was trying to put out the conflaguration that had once been her house. Blaze was struggling to do something about the flames; when a fire was this extensive, even she couldn't do much. It was beyond her powers. Shadow was striding back and forth, cursing in Gaelic and Japanese. Judging by his singed quills, he was the one who'd found Rouge in the kitchen. Meanwhile, everyone else was flinging buckets and dragging in hoses. The fire department from the nearest town would probably arrive eventually, but counting on them was like waiting for Godot.

At last the fire got wrestled down to a manageable level. Rouge gazed at the smoldering timbers and charred drywall. The melted remains of the refrigerator poked out of the wreckage. While Blaze snuffed out the last few flames, the others came over to check on Rouge. Rouge gently pushed away the oxygen mask, nodding her thanks to Cream.

"What happened there?" demanded Shadow at once. "Why did your house just catch fire out of the blue? Why were you locked in the kitchen?!"

"I . . . don't know," said Rouge dizzily.

"You _don't know?_ Are you suicidal or something?!"

"I couldn't stop it, I passed out—"

"You _what?_"

"Shadow, that's enough!" called Blaze sharply. "She's been through a lot tonight. Don't make her talk."

Shadow shook his head impatiently. He didn't look at all satisfied.

"Thanks for getting me out of there," said Rouge quietly, stroking gently at the burnt tips of her wings. "I owe you."

Amy put her hand on Rouge's arm. "Don't worry, Rouge. It'll all turn out all right. You can stay with me until your house gets fixed."

Rouge immediately thought of Knuckles. She couldn't stay with Amy! If Knuckles came after her there, the jig would be up! Everyone would find out—would find out—

Her heart leaped into her throat as she realized that the Master Emerald was probably still in the wreckage of her house. One way or another, the jig was up! When the others started to clear away the charred wreckage, they'd find the Emerald! She was doomed, doomed unless she could somehow—

She didn't really know _what_ to do, but she had to do _something_. She stumbled to her feet abruptly and tried to push past Sonic.

"Hey, where you going?" demanded Sonic, grabbing her arm. "Are you crazy? That wreckage is still hundreds of degrees!"

"I have to get something!" said Rouge desperately, trying to pull away.

"It's destroyed by now, Rouge," said Sonic as gently as he could.

"No no, I'm sure it must still be—"

"Rouge, it's not going anywhere. When the ashes cool, we'll find it," promised Sonic.

_Sure they will_, thought Rouge dizzily. _Oh, they most definitely will_.

"Come on Rouge, take it easy," urged Sonic, putting a hand on her shoulder, both to comfort and restrain her. "We've got to get you to Amy's place, bandage you up, and put you to bed. Just relax, and things will look better in the morning, okay?"

"We're here for you, Ms. Rouge," said Cream earnestly, tears shining in her eyes.

_If they only knew_, Rouge thought bitterly_. If they only knew, they wouldn't want to come within two miles of me._

There was no use in struggling. The others were watching her with anxious looks, wondering why she was acting so strangely. It was only a matter of time before they ran into either Knuckles or the Master Emerald, and then only a little more time before they were slipping the noose over her neck. No saving the situation now.

Setting her teeth, Rouge allowed herself to be led to Amy's house.


	6. H-----N-----E

**A/N: One more chapter after this. A big thank you to all those who review, follow, and fave, especially Lost and Forgotten Memories, who seems to have PMs disabled, and anonymous reviewer Guest. Thanks to both of you!**

* * *

The next morning, Rouge slowly clambered out of a surprisingly blissful sleep. For a minute she was surprised at her surroundings, but then she relaxed. Right, she was sleeping on Amy's couch after the fire. Also, she was doomed. Sighing drowsily, she snuggled down under the quilt Amy had loaned her, huddling against the back of the sofa. It was surprisingly comfortable, and very warm . . . and somehow she felt strangely safe. And very exhausted.

She lay still and feigned sleep as Amy came padding softly down the stairs. She didn't feel like getting up just yet. Amy went to the kitchen and began to clatter about quietly, probably fixing up a bit of breakfast. Eventually she must have put on her boots, because the soft sock-footed padding changed to a firm clomping sound. The front door clicked open, then shut.

Probably she had gone down to help the others dig through Rouge's house. Now left in peace, Rouge sighed and stretched, gingerly flexing her muscles against the sting of bandages on burned fur and skin. She considered getting up, but thought better of it. Very soon Amy and the others would come over with their questions. Might as well enjoy her last few hours of freedom.

Rouge drowsed peacefully until Amy returned. Then she sat up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. Ave, Caesar. Morituri te salutant.

"Oh, you're up!" said Amy cheerfully, stepping into the living room. "Did you sleep well? I'm sorry I couldn't offer anything better than the old sofa."

Rouge glanced at Amy curiously. There was not a trace of unease on the hedgehog's face; merely a smile of solicitous concern. Well . . . no sense inviting the storm in, if it hadn't come yet.

"I slept great, thanks," said Rouge honestly. "Better than I have in days. Have I missed anything?"

"Not much," said Amy, going to wash her hands. "I was just out helping the guys with the . . . uh, with the cleanup," she finished awkwardly. She noticed the strange look on Rouge's face. "Oh, I'm sorry Rouge. I know it's really soon after all this happened, I didn't mean to upset you."

Rouge was not upset, however. She was puzzled. Amy was acting as if nothing had happened. Had the Master Emerald somehow escaped detection?

"I'm fine, hon," Rouge said hastily, realizing she was staying silent too long. "I was just wondering if you guys found anything in the wreckage?"

"Oh, that thing you were worried about last night," said Amy, sitting down on the sofa next to Rouge. "Sorry, but we looked through everything, and we didn't find much. Some of your kitchen appliances were still kind of in one piece, but I don't think they'll work. There were also some pieces of jewelry and stuff. I brought those home for you." She motioned to a paper bag she had left near the door. "Otherwise, we found some melted silverware, a lot of broken pipes and things. Nothing else. Was there something important you lost?" She tilted her head sympathetically.

"No, no, it's fine," mumbled Rouge, trying not to stare vacantly. Her head was spinning. No Master Emerald? It was gone? How in the world . . .

She must have failed at looking fine, because Amy gave her a concerned look.

"I really am sorry, Rouge. Don't worry, we can help you find a new house in no time, or rebuild the old one. And until then, you can stay with me as long as you need to! Everything will be all right, trust me." She stood up perkily. "Why don't I make you some tea, Rouge? Or would you like coffee?"

"Tea would be great," said Rouge, not really thinking about what she was saying. As Amy went into the kitchen and began to rattle the kettle, Rouge sank back on the sofa and clutched her head. How in the world could the Master Emerald have just disappeared? Had Knuckles taken it? Oh, come on. With a loose-hanging arm like that, he'd never have been able to carry it. She wracked her brains, then suddenly hit upon a theory. Supposing, she postulated, that the Master Emerald had been smashed? After all, when the house caught fire, it must have fallen a fairly long way when the second floor collapsed. And then it was subjected to an insanely high heat, too.

Yes, that was it! The Master Emerald had smashed during the fire, and as was its custom, the pieces had scattered all over creation. That would explain it!

Rouge hugged herself quietly. The situation was perfect! Nobody knew that she had taken the Master Emerald, and presumably nobody knew about Knuckles either. Now that the Emerald was smashed, Knuckles would probably start running around trying to find the fragments, instead of bugging her all the time. She was safe! It was amazing, how she always managed to slither out of these situations. Oh, things were splendid now; soon she'd have a new house, settle down to normalcy again, all her troubles would be over.

"Drink up!" sang Amy, strolling out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs of tea. Rouge looked at her blankly for a second, having forgotten that she'd asked for tea in the first place. Still, she quickly recovered and took the mug Amy held out.

"You okay, Rouge?" asked a puzzled Amy.

"Oh, I'm fine," smiled Rouge, sipping at the warm, sweet liquid. "I'm just wonderful, really."

* * *

The days went by. The burns on Rouge's wings and body began to heal slowly. Her mind began to grow calmer, too. During the first few days she was in constant agony that Knuckles would make an appearance, but he never did. Then for a few days she was in constant agony that he was just trying to get her to lower her guard, but eventually that slipped away too.

And it was easy to be happy. Amy was a most gracious hostess, giving Rouge a little space while assuring she was never lonely. All of Rouge's friends popped in to visit her often, too. Cream brought baked goods and gentle hugs every day. Sonic would come to ricochet around the room a few times, chattering, while Tails inquired after Rouge's health in his adorable little gentlemanly way. Silver and Blaze would play board games with her, and Big brought her a fish once. She had no clue what to do with it; truth be told, she and Amy had quite a laugh at poor Big's expense once he was gone. Even Shadow dropped in now and then, with a sardonic line or two that stung Rouge into snapping back, and a triumphant smirk teasing her gently whenever he got her to lose her temper. With him around she'd never sink into self-pity, that was for sure.

Time made her thoughtful. She began to look at her friends with a new perspective. She had called them her friends for ages, had thought of them as friends and treated them as such. Or at least, she'd thought she had. Thinking about it now, she realized she had always been a little smug, a little superior. She'd always thought herself somewhat better than Amy or Blaze or even Sonic, because she was tougher and had more street smarts. She had always loved to tease and show off and put others down a bit, flaunting her superiority. At times she had regarded Amy's innocence with a supercilious pity.

But looking at it now, Rouge felt a twinge of guilt. Tasting fear had made her humble. She saw the others being so good to her, worrying about her health and happiness, and asked herself if she would have done the same for them, one month ago. The examination of conscience was good for her; as time passed, she tried her best to be kinder and more understanding to those around her.

Eventually her burns healed. She knew she had to start doing something coherent towards finding a new house. The others had said nothing about it, not wanting to remind Rouge of what she had lost, but she couldn't just keep exploiting Amy's hospitality.

She wasn't sure how she'd feel, seeing the ruins of her old home. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene in front of anyone. As such, she decided to go at night and have a look at the wreckage. Depending on how she felt about it, she might opt to rebuild, or to find a home elsewhere. Something told her she didn't really want to hang around that place anymore anyway . . . but still, something drew her to the spot. She had to at least see it.

As midnight oozed slowly over Mobius, Rouge slipped quietly out through Amy's front door. She tested her wings, and smiled when she felt them flex as lightly and smoothly as ever. How long had it been since she last flew? Digging her toes gently into the turf, she took off.

It was beautiful. The night shimmered and hummed all around her, dribbling cool, damp air into her lungs and stabbing the sky with an occasional star. Wings barely stroking, hair ruffling in gentle ripples of wind, sharp clear energy pulsing through every milliliter of air—you felt like you were motionless in the void of space, cloaked with the chilly alchemics of some nebula.

Damn the house. It wasn't going anywhere. For now, Rouge just wanted to fly.

Her skills hadn't left her. She could still tumble and dive just as she pleased, her wings snapping sharply to pull off acute-angle turns, her knees tucking up neatly for somersaults. The old thrill of flight carried her away and blurred her perception of time, blurred her very consciousness—till before she knew it, her boots were connecting with the edge of Angel Island, already prancing as habit had taught them in the direction of the Master Emerald shrine.

She had gone four steps when realization suddenly sank a steel-toothed trap into her. Her heartbeat and breath both shot into a shallow, uneven gallop, as her muscles pulled tight over her bones.

Why was Angel Island floating?


	7. E-----A-----S

Rouge struggled to pull herself together. If the island was floating, the Master Emerald had to be here. But how could it be here? Knuckles couldn't possibly have gathered its fragments in that little time. Could he? She stood torn with indecision for a moment, her heart zinging slightly in her chest from hammering so hard. There really wasn't much option but to go and see for herself. She didn't have to go all the way over or anything . . . just close enough to see.

Usually her footsteps towards the Master Emerald shrine were playful and eager. Today, each step sent chills through her body, as she set her feet down grudgingly, gingerly, as if expecting the earth to give way any moment. Numbly she brushed her way through the jungle, trying to catch a glimpse of the shrine through the foliage.

Presently she pushed a branch up out of her way, and there it was: the shrine. With an unmistakable sharp green glow at the top.

Rouge let the branch fall back into place and stood still for a second, staring through it. The Master Emerald was _there_. Just as if nothing had happened. Had . . . _had_ anything happened?

A combination of terrifying theories came swarming out of holes in the ground. Had nothing actually taken place? Had she been dreaming all along? Was her house still standing? Was Knuckles—was Knuckles _here?_ Or was he at her house, waiting? Was he dead, was he alive?

Trembling, Rouge shot to the edge of Angel Island and took off. Her wings, previously light and happy to frolic, now cried with exertion as she blindly drove herself back to her house. Was it still standing?

It wasn't. Rouge slammed down onto her feet in front of a charred jumble of wood, which appeared to have been mostly picked through and tidied. So it had happened, all of it.

Why was Angel Island floating?

Rouge stood in silence, her eyes roving over the charcoal and streaks of burned ground.

"Hello," a quiet voice came from the darkness.

Rouge whirled, her hands raised for combat, the hearts on her boots scraping into the ground dangerously. She might be confused to the point of madness, but she still wasn't going to let herself be mowed down without a fight.

It was Shadow. He sat on a pile of charred lumber nearby, watching her quietly through the darkness.

"I thought you'd come here eventually," he said, as Rouge's breathing returned to a reasonable rate. "You seem unnerved."

Rouge shook her head at him mutely.

"Seen Angel Island?"

She looked away, still silent.

"Angel Island needs its Emerald," said Shadow, for way of explanation. "I found it in the wreckage of your house, but I managed to keep it a secret from the others. I waited to put it back in its shrine until your burns had healed. In case you needed to flee." His cold eyes scanned her appraisingly, ironically.

"Got something you want to tell me?"

Swallowing, she turned to look at Shadow again. He was expressionless, perfectly calm, even though he must know she had done something wrong. If the Master Emerald was in her house and Knuckles hadn't been seen in weeks, Shadow must have drawn his own conclusions already. He must have known for a while now, all while she was recovering.

And yet, there was no judgment in his eyes. Could she tell him what had happened? She'd known him for a long time; they both knew each other inside-out. She had to tell someone, someday. She couldn't keep fighting alone forever. Shadow was the one most likely to believe her—and the least likely to condemn her. She could tell him. She had to.

"Will you believe what I tell you?" she asked softly. "If I swear I'm telling the truth?"

"I'll believe you."

Rouge nodded numbly and began to talk. She'd been hoping it would be relieving, lessening her confusion and the numb pain in her chest, but it only exacerbated her misery. She relived every agonized moment of it, sparing nothing. Knuckles dead. Knuckles alive again. Knuckles leeching her soul out through her throat. She tried to be coherent at first, but very soon she just gave in and babbled onwards blankly, not even caring whether Shadow was listening or not.

But he was. He didn't utter a word all throughout. He didn't even move.

"And now I don't know where he is," Rouge finished wearily. "Now that I'm well, he might start coming for me again. He's got his Emerald back, but I don't think he wants it. He just wants me dead! At first it was just the head games, but now he literally wants my head, I don't know what to do . . . I can't stop him . . . " She drew a deep breath and looked up at Shadow. Half of her cringed in expectation of condemnation; the other half begged hopelessly that, just once, he could squeeze a little sympathy out of that icy soul of his, tell her it would be all right and he knew just what to do to fix it.

Shadow did neither. He said nothing for a minute, but slowly raised one hand to his face, sinking his eyes into his palm and dragging the hand back over his forehead, clawing his fingers through his quills.

"Rouge, Rouge," he said softly, looking away. "What have you done to yourself?"

"I didn't come to you for pity!" snapped Rouge, furious in her desperation. "I didn't tell you all that just so you could tell me I was an idiot! Believe me, I am _abundantly_ aware of that!"

"Rouge," said Shadow. He stood up resignedly. "You're crazy."

Whatever will to live that may have remained drained out of Rouge all at once. If Shadow didn't believe her, nobody would.

"I—I tell you the truth," she hissed, eyes blazing. "I more or less throw myself on your mercy, Shadow the Hedgehog, and that's all you can give me? You—"

"Knuckles is dead," said Shadow flatly. "He's not haunting you."

"He is not dead!" snarled Rouge. "Are you insane? Who do you think did all this to me?!" She flung her arm out at the blackened wreckage they were standing amongst.

"You did it to yourself. Judging from your story, I see that now."

"Y-you son of a—"

"You're out of your mind. You're having delusions that Knuckles is trying to kill you, when it's all your doing."

"_I am not delusional!_" Rouge bellowed, her vocal cords aching as she feverishly wished for the ability to scream. "Do you know what kind of hell I've been through? Do you know what it's like to be alone, with an undead freak ripping out his eyeballs in front of you? And you tell me it's all in my _head?_ Thank you! Thank you very _much!_ Now I _am_ all alone, and you can sit comfortably with that while I get murdered by some godforsaken echidna who's all in my _head!_"

Shadow made no reply, but stood, his eyes narrowed, his fists tight. Suddenly he seized Rouge's arm and began to drag her away from the wreckage of the house.

"Let go of me, you—" swearing, Rouge tore herself away and spun, driving her boot into Shadow's skull. She didn't care by this point if she beat his brains out—nothing mattered anymore. The kill instinct began to stir quietly in its den somewhere, nettled on by sheer desperation.

Shadow dropped to one knee and hissed through his teeth, one hand pressed to the side of his head. His body shivered all over with pain, once, twice, then calmed. Breathing heavily, he pushed himself to his feet and snatched for Rouge's arm again.

"Chaos, CONTROL!"

In a flash of light, they materialized in a dark void. An even darker shape loomed above them, casting them into immaterial blackness. They were in the mountains now.

"Leave me alone!" growled Rouge. She threw herself at Shadow again.

"Get ahold of yourself before I have to hurt you!" ordered Shadow, blocking a wild blow. "Calm down this instant!"

"Calm down? You leave me just when I need you most, you call me crazy when you're the only one I reach out to, and you want me to calm _down?_" Rouge choked on a mixture of fury and saliva. "I'll—I'll kill you!"

She lunged for another kick. Shadow dodged back and drove a Chaos Spear into her heart. Rouge slammed against the rockface behind her, her breath jarring from her lungs in a barely-formed cry.

"I'm trying to _help_ you!" barked Shadow, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Do me a favor and don't kill me in return!"

"You're—you're as bad as Knuckles," slurred Rouge, hatred sparking in her eyes. "He sent you, didn't he?"

Shadow shut his eyes and swore. Then he again seized Rouge's elbow and began to drag her through the mountains, deeper and deeper into the valleys, overpowering her last desperate attempts to get free. She was too exhausted even to panic anymore.

Finally Shadow dragged her to the end of a gully, pulled her into a cave hidden beneath an outcrop of stone, and shoved her in front of him, gripping her arms and forcing her to look at the bones, rotting flesh, and leftover scraps of red-furred skin spread at the base of a pile of jewels.

"There," he snarled, panting. "There's Knuckles."

Rouge went stiff, then immediately limp, her eyes wide. Choking, she slid from Shadow's loosening grip, dropped to all fours, and retched up the contents of her stomach. Shadow stood by, his face coldly understanding. Horror. Pure mind-numbing horror.

At last Rouge's insides stopped contracting. Lifting her head, she swiped the back of her hand over her mouth and drew a shuddering breath. A strange light had left her eyes, one that you'd never even have noticed until it was gone. Her mind was barely functioning, but also unfamiliarly clear.

"So he's dead."

"Yes, he's dead," said Shadow. "You pushed him off that cliff all right, but he was never revived. When I found the Master Emerald in your house, I started looking. I found your secret hoarding cave here, and Knuckles in it. Like that."

"But why?" whispered Rouge, shaking. Her fingers scraped against the stone floor as she drew her fists closed. "What—w-what—"

"The Master Emerald," said Shadow. "I suppose you thought, all these years, Knuckles was protecting the Emerald from you. You were wrong. He was protecting you from the Emerald. He was protecting the _world_ from the Emerald. That thing is vile."

Rouge looked up at him in mute inquiry.

"Its power is pure evil," continued Shadow, his gaze traveling grimly around the room, passing over the piles of gems and lingering morosely on the corpse in the corner. "Knuckles was immune to it. You were not. It stirred your lust for jewels, hoping to get free of Knuckles' control. When you stole the Emerald, it immediately began to invade your mind, give you suggestions. When Knuckles followed you, it told you to kill him. From then on, it was easy."

"Easy," murmured Rouge, her eyes blank. She couldn't fathom it. Under a spell all this time.

"It preyed on your guilt, using your natural abilities of deception," Shadow's dark murmur continued. "When you found Knuckles with his neck broken, you panicked. You were wildly open to any suggestion, and you got it. You hid the body away in your secret cave, and allowed the Master Emerald to convince you that it had in fact revived Knuckles. Then it got itself taken into your very house, and set to work on destroying you in turn.

"You were still guilty, frightened. You still knew, deep in your subconscious mind, that Knuckles was dead, and you had to hide it. The Master Emerald transformed your guilt into delusions, nudging you towards the brink of insanity, causing you to hurt yourself. To pour gasoline all over your own kitchen, lock the door, and light a match. It wanted to dispose of you quickly and move on to the next doomed soul."

His glance traveled sharply to Rouge for a moment.

"Do you believe me now? Or are you still insane?"

"No," whispered Rouge. "I believe you. I remember everything, I was crazy. But I—I killed him . . . " She pressed her fist over her mouth and shut her eyes, shivering.

"It wasn't entirely your fault," shrugged Shadow. "And it's understandable that you felt guilt afterwards. The first kill is difficult for all. Perhaps it even was for me, although I don't remember it." His red eyes shifted through the darkness, scanning Rouge's huddled form. "The next ones will be easier."

"N-next ones?"

"You can't stay here. The others will find out. They will not understand, since they are mostly immune to the Master Emerald. At least for now."

Rouge drew a slow breath and looked up at him flatly.

"I've got to get out of here."

"And change your name," agreed Shadow quietly. "Disappear. Thoroughly."

Rouge nodded, swallowing.

"I'll cover for you," continued Shadow. "Long enough for you to get far away."

"Thank you." It was quiet, professional. Resigned in desperation, slightly thinned with grief. Rouge pushed herself halfway to her feet, biting her lip. "I'll go. But please Shadow, just a few minutes? Alone, I—I need to say goodbye."

Shadow paused for the span of a breath. Then he nodded tersely.

"Make it quick," he ordered, striding towards the door. At the mouth of the cave he paused for a second and turned back to look at Rouge, slumped over her hands, tears standing on her eyelashes, murmuring some incoherent plea for forgiveness to the silent walls. Broken. This was all that was left? Dipping his head, he stepped outside.

Rouge sensed she was alone now, alone with her own horror and guilt. Thick with the smell of death, the cave seemed to be closing in on her, squeezing at her clear but boiling mind. A murderer. She was a murderer. She choked down a sob.

"Finally," chuckled a voice. "I thought he'd never leave!"

Abruptly the mass of bones and slime heaved itself off the floor and turned the grinning remains of its face towards her.

That was the night Rouge learned how to scream.


End file.
